


B is For Barely Alive

by TheReinbachDragonlord



Series: Almost Human Alphabet Soup [2]
Category: Almost Human
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, fractured story telling, this was so fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2283303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReinbachDragonlord/pseuds/TheReinbachDragonlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Images, memories, pain. Barely alive and yet he could feel everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	B is For Barely Alive

**Author's Note:**

> This post was inspired entirely by Leoraine's S is for Stalker (an amazing Suits fic that you definitely should read if you're in the fandom). I don't like the layout of LJ so I didn't go searching for the full prompt, but I used what I could gather from the name to create this. I hope you guys like it :)

_Images, memories, pain._

Where was he?

_A hospital bed, steady beeping, a flash of yellow._

A car.

_Images, memories, pain._

Barely alive and yet he could feel everything.

_Images, memories, pain?_

But he can’t feel pain.

_Images, memories, pain._

A hand reaches out.

Is it reaching out for him, or for the car, trying to stop it by sheer will? Something warm touches his hand, coating it in liquid.

_Taste, smell, touch._

He could feel but not pain, never pain.

_Heartache, love, grief._

Mourning the ones he lost while he walks away with a new chest plate and a Band-Aid.

_Lost?_

_Losing._

The distinction was important but he didn’t know why. Lost was past tense, ‘something that has been taken away but cannot be recovered.’ Losing is present. Stoppable.

_Losing?_

Warm liquid, spreading, oozing, sticky. A cry for help, someone shouting his name.

_A hospital bed, steady beeping._

But the noises were slowing down, irregular yet frantic, as if they were trying to hold on, trying to speed up.

_Losing._

Something else starts beeping, flashing, shrieking. It’s slowing down, slowing down – something different but important. What, what was so important? What was he forgetting?

_Images, memories, pain._

A yellow car, a hospital bed, a hand reaching out. The liquid dripping, coating his hand. Something within him alights, sensors going off, flashing, shrieking.

_Lost._

The beeping stops but the silence is just as bad, piercing, empty. It’s reaching critical, blue lights turning red, flickering.

_John._

His arm jolts as a volt of energy surges through it, a spark alighting somewhere at the end. Something else jerks beside him. The beeping returns.

_Images, memories, pain._

But it isn’t a memory, it’s happening now, this is the present.

_The yellow car._

A yellow Hotrod, but bigger, faster. A Mercedes, tires squealing, windows smashing. Circuits blown and warm liquid. Everything is wrong.

_Fix._

He reaches up, hands shaking, wires frayed. Something sparks and his eyes open.

_John._

Right beside him, hardly breathing, barely alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! xx


End file.
